Sleepless (Part 5)
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Molly felt awful about mailing Sherlock's letter, two weeks later …
.
The radio program came back on, playing bits of John and Rosie’s conversation, a constant reminder of her betrayal …
… and Sherlock - too - had appeared in her lab to work out a few details on a pressing case in symphony with the radio timing …
Molly flushed with colour. Unable to turn around and or even to look at him.
.
“Something is bothering you,” Sherlock stated off-hand. As if he didn’t really care about the answer, but was, in fact, annoyed by it …
.
Molly fussed with paperwork.
"Busy day," she managed, after a moment, then topped it off with a cheery, “what did you think of the program on New Years?” before she could stop herself …
Her voice didn’t even shake.
She was quite proud for this not small feat, but immediately wanted to run and hide …
.
“Had its moments,” Sherlock acknowledged, reluctantly.
Maybe hiding wasn't necessary ...
“… but I do wish the host would allow her guests to speak without limitations," he added, offhand.
.
She laughed off her nerves, “it is a radio program for entertainment, Sherlock-? She has to keep it on track?”
“Boring,” Sherlock responded, dully.
.
He wasn’t looking at her. Wasn’t even looking up.
.
“Will you be writing to them, then?” She asked bravely, after several minutes of uninterrupted silence. Again, forcing the casual note to her voice, “to find out the answers you needed …?”
“What answers?” Sherlock cut her off, “I deduced everything within minutes of the show’s ending. Case. Closed.”
“So you weren’t interested in the Doctor? John?” she prodded, “not even a little? ‘Cause I thought-”
“Molly,” he eyed her suspiciously. Her heart stopped for a second. But then he went back to his research, “I hope I would have more sense than to act like a silly schoolgirl sending notes,” he spat the last word with extreme derision.
.
“... Besides,” he added -
. A few moments after she had started breathing again -
“... the relationship would never have worked out.”
.
She froze.
. “And why’s that?” she laughed ... trying not to look too anxious for his reply …
.
. Shit. Shit. SHIT!
. ... Why did she send off that letter???
.
“I’m a detective ,” he barked, startling her,
. “I chase criminals through the streets of London on a regular basis!
. I get death threats and have been kidnapped on more than one occasion!
. And OH?! Have I mentioned my inability to make or keep friends …?
. Hardly the type of person a Doctor and the Father of a Small Child is going to want as a roommate ... hmmm?"
.
Molly stepped back a pace.
. “You've been kidnapped?” she asked, horrified ...
.
He sighed. Rolling back around to face his work.
“Twice as an adult. Once as a child. Risks of the trade.”
.
Molly stood speechless.
He took another deep breath - a calming breath - she thought … and looked away.
“Now if you would leave me be?” he asked politely, “I have work to finish, and a plane to catch.”
.
“Another? Where to this time?” she hoped her smile was reassuring, but doubted it.
“Amsterdam,” he replied, still not looking up.
“Vacation then?” she tried for a more cheery note, but was shot down.
“Hardly,” Sherlock huffed, and drew out his notepad.
. The same notepad that he had used to write the letter …
And scribbled a few words before looking back up at her surprised expression.
He took her silence as want of more explanation, and filled her in, “I’m following a trail of bank exchanges that will hopefully lead me to a blackmailer and a potential human trafficker. Teens have been going missing. Will probably be gone a few weeks. Maybe a month. If the trail leads elsewhere … "
.
“Oh.”
. She stepped back a pace, collecting herself,
. “yeah, ‘course. Silly me!”
.
She made her way back to her workstation, and they finished their tasks in silence. Her stomach growing more and more knotted with every passing, guilty, minute … Wondering … should she say something? … Confess?
Half an agonising hour later, he was grabbing his coat,
. and then he paused - to her surprise - in the doorway …
.
“Besides …,"
. he added, quietly, as if they were still carrying on their conversation from earlier,
. “... what would I have to offer him?”
.
.
A stunned and blinking Molly could only watch as he disappeared down the hall and out the double doors. His shoulders slumped. His long, billowing coat, the only thing alive about his demeanour ...
Unable to answer ...
All the reasons she had fallen for him, already.
.
... She no longer regretted sending the letter.
SLEEPLESS IN LONDON (continued below!)
